


Gresit College

by Skepsis_Ree



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon), 悪魔城ドラキュラ | Castlevania Series
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Gresit College, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, modern day AU, slowburn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:01:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23250631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skepsis_Ree/pseuds/Skepsis_Ree
Summary: Modern Day AU of Castlevania OT3. This is going to be a longer series.The main three are living in the modern-day and two of them are trying to get through college like responsible adults. But the world of the supernatural lurks just beyond the shadows. Sypha knows about it, but how deep does it go? They discover that vampires are real and that the three of them need to do more to protect and investigate the supernatural plaguing this college town.Of course, romance will always become a part of any three-way-partnership.
Relationships: AlucardSypha, AlucardTrevor, Aluvor, SyphaAlucard, SyphaTrevor, Trephacard - Relationship, TrevorSypha, Trevorcard - Relationship, TrevordAlucard
Comments: 4
Kudos: 18





	1. Haze House

**Author's Note:**

> Trevor must complete the task of entering and spending 1 full night in Haze House as a hazing ritual to get into the fraternity he wants to pledge to. He's not overly nervous, more inconvenienced, but it sets the stage for what is to come into Trevor's life. Who will he meet there? And what path is his life about to head down after making the decision to spend the night in Haze House?

Trevor sighed heavily looking up at the old house on Vlad Avenue; windows broken, and shingles missing the Victorian styled home looked as if it was hardly being held together. The houses on the block were in similar shape. Doors boarded shut, lawns unkempt with broken bottles and graffiti littering the yard. 

This house though, this black and destroyed monument to an earlier era was the most well-known house on campus. Once rumoured to be a fraternity house the building had fallen into disrepair years ago and it had yet to be taken down. This entire block was a row of old houses from different decades waiting to be torn down and replaced. They just hadn’t yet. And this Victorian Manner, known as Haze House by the campus, was no different.  
Its exterior was wrapped in vines, as shingles hung from the roof. The yard had an old tire sitting buried in the grass with a shed already having fallen victim to time. The structure of the home looked more dangerous than anything supernatural and Trevor wondered quietly if hazing was worth this. He was probably going to need a tetanus shot after spending the night in there. But alas; the rumours said the place was haunted and anyone wanting to get into Tau Mu Alpha was forced to spend one night in the Victorian manner. A few other Fraternities and Sororities used the house for similar hazing rituals, but Trevor didn’t see any other students tonight.

Tonight was his night. Spend one night alone and get into the Fraternity he had been trying to pledge to for weeks. He wasn’t really into that whole ‘strength in power community’ garbage, but he needed a stable environment and living in the Fraternity would be cheaper than paying rent. He didn’t have a lot of options; his sports scholarship only took him so far.

Trevor pinched the bridge of his nose, willing the throbbing behind his eyes away. He was hungover, and even though it was already eleven at night he had only sobered up enough to feel the headache a few hours ago. The better deal with a Fraternity was the amount of beer he’d be able to bum off of the crew, as long as things stayed civil between them all. It was worth it, in the long run.

Trevor took his flashlight out of his pocket and clicked it a few times to try the battery out. It flashed against the cracked pavement and illuminated some crunched cans littering the sidewalk. They crawled with ants and Trevor furled his lip at the sight of it. There was probably more of that waiting for him inside.

He had brought a bedroll and a couple of cans of coffee, having no disillusions of sleeping the night inside. Dirt didn’t bother him, and he had woken up in grosser places after an all-night bender, but he didn’t trust that he would be left alone all night. Knowing how Fraternities worked, he was probably due to expect some pranks in the middle of the night. Better to just stay awake. He’d done it easily enough before. He just had to last until sunrise.  
Trevor hoisted the bedroll onto his shoulder and started walking up the overgrown path to the front door. The little trail was hard to spot at times through the tall grass, their stocks brown and shriveling. He had to make it to the top floor and flash his flashlight towards Fraternity row indicating he had made it inside; he was to flash the light again just before sunrise to prove he had spent the night. 

He stomped his way up the broken steps to the patio and walked gingerly around rotting wood and the holes present in the front porch. The door to the manner was closed, but the screen was ripped and exposed the interior to the elements. The dark paint was peeling off the wood and the black and white motifs of the once gorgeous house made the porch look all the more unwelcoming.

Trevor pulled the door open with some effort, the wood scraping against the bottom of the door frame as he forced it open and pulled it shut again. He was probably going to run into some animal in here, a possum or a raccoon.  
Trevor shone his light around the interior hallway and illuminated a ripped-up rug and a door off its hinges. The space was littered with broken glass and debris of some kind, but he spotted the stairs at the back of the house and made his way there.

It was a giant house really. The first floor expanded to take up most of the lot with a porch wrapping around it’s exterior. There was a turret to the West corner of the house, and it looked as if it had once held a cozy reading nook. It was an impressive building, but there was no wonder why no one had bought the property up. A road filled with busted up houses and the Victorian Manner was far too difficult to maintain in this economy.  
Trevor stepped up creaking stairs, his foot plunging through one of the steps and scraping his ankle. He hissed and caught himself against the railing, almost dropping his flashlight.

“Son of a bitch,” he muttered, yanking his foot free. “Not today motherfucker.” He mumbled with fake bravado, sighing to himself as he got to the top of the steps. How lame; he was really becoming one of those frat guys already.

He ran his flashlight around the old hallways, finding it difficult to navigate as he stepped over broken chairs and bottles. His feet crunched over glass as he attempted to step quietly through the house. It felt odd making noise in an empty house, and he almost felt as if he needed to sneak around to be allowed here. Foolish really, but it was a human habit.

Trevor found the North room he was supposed to shine his light from and stumbled through the broken door; the doorframe blocked at the bottom by an overturned bookshelf. This had probably been a place to party a decade or more back, and the house had easily fallen victim to the destruction of teens. It wasn’t Trevor’s problem though. He just needed to last one night.

The brunette found his way to the window and shone his light against the dusty glass. It was dirty up here and he could see a warped reflection of himself through the pane. It would probably be easier to get the light to shine across the hill leading to Fraternity row if he opened it.

Trevor grimaced and put the flashlight in his mouth, feeling the corners of his lips strain as he attempted to hold the device in place. He didn’t want to hurt his teeth against the metal, and he struggled awkwardly to hold the light still. He reached for the window, feeling to find purchase on the frame before trying to force it up. The window squeaked and jolted, getting stuck every few inches.

“Come on you—” Trevor groaned, putting force into the push, “janky-ass, stupid, wooden mother—”

The window shot up and shattered against the frame sending glass flying back at Trevor as he reeled in shock. He yelped and stumbled backward, dropping the flashlight in one go as he felt pain shoot through his left hand.  
“Fuck!” He yelled, lifting his hand up to the moonlight seeping in through the open window now. It had broken into large jagged pieces and Trevor had caught one of the pieces in the side of his hand. He frowned at the bleeding gash, the blood starting to leak down his forearm as his fingers shook from the small burst of adrenaline.

“Great…” the brunette mumbled, watching the blood gather around the small piece of glass. Just his luck.

“Show yourself!”

Trevor heard suddenly as a sharp feminine voice shot through the room. He jumped in shock, reeling around as he looked into the hallway. He could see a silhouette against the blackness and his heart leaped into his throat at the sudden sight. He scrambled across the room to his flashlight, the silhouette seeming to duck away at the sudden movement.

“Who’s there?” Trevor boomed, trying to make himself sound intimidating as he grabbed the flashlight and shone it into the hallway.

He caught a glimpse of orange as he tried to hold the light still, his hand still throbbing from the cut. He shone the light back and forth across the hallway, walking to the door with caution as the peeling wallpaper danced with shadows. Trevor had no clue who else could be here; dangerous people congregated in decrepit buildings like this. He could run into someone off their rocker that would be more than happy to do him harm. That was the real threat in a house like this. No ghost or goblin; actual human beings.

Trevor leaned over the bookcase barrier and looked into the hallway, being blinded by a bright light as he staggered backward a few steps. He flinched, trying to blink passed the light as a woman came into view. Her expression was stern, but she couldn’t be much younger than Trevor himself. Her eyes were a sharp piercing blue and she was draped in flowy black clothes, the fabric covering her figure underneath. That’s when Trevor noticed, through the blinding light, her orange bob that almost radiated from the glow of his own flashlight. She had short cut strawberry-blonde hair that curled in the front, framing her face and making her stern expression look softer.  


“Oh,” Trevor said as his shoulders stank. This didn’t look like the type of person he should be concerned about. “It’s a girl.” He said idly, lowering his flashlight so it wasn’t directly in her face.

“Excuse me?” The redhead said back, putting one of her hands on her hips and narrowing her eyes. “Who the hell are you? And what are you doing here?”  
“It’s uh… stupid.” Trevor replied, feeling a bit overwhelmed now.

“What? Your name is stupid, or you are?” Her accent was thick, and Trevor was having a hard time placing its origins. 

Trevor felt his cheeks flush as he clenched his jaw in protest.

“No, I mean…” he sighed, flinching away from the light. “Can you please stop shining that in my face?”

“Who are you?” She persisted.

“My name is Trevor, Trevor Belmont.”


	2. Wiccan Bottle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Told from Sypha's perspective. She confronts Trevor and what he's doing in this old house, admitting her own reasons for being here. Will they work together to find the Tomb of the Hero?

“My name is Trevor, Trevor Belmont.”

Sypha looked at the man, waiting for him to answer her question in full. He looked stunned, and his scruffy beard caught the beams of her flashlight, making his face sparkle. It was greasy hair no doubt that caused that gleam, and it fractured upwards into his shaggy brown hair. He kept flinching away from the light, as if it was hurting him, his blue eyes glinting as he squinted at her. He had a scar, a small one, across his left eye, cutting his eyebrow in half and tracing down his cheek. It wasn’t a nasty scar, but it looked as if the cut had been deep; clean and deep.

“And?” Sypha asked, lowering her flashlight some so the man could answer her. He looked vaguely familiar and Sypha wondered if he attended school with her.

“I’m just… Jesus, I’m here for haze night. I’m just supposed to spend the night.” He looked embarrassed to admit such a thing and Sypha put her hands on her hips as she studied him further.  
“Oh.” She replied, sounding none too impressed. “You’re one of those.”

The man ducked his head slightly; it looked like he was pissed but also flustered by being caught off guard in such a place. He looked like he was in his mid-twenties, but with the naivety to his answer and pledging for a Fraternity? He had to be the same age as her. The scruffiness was aging him no doubt.

Sypha slipped her hand into her pocket, palming the warm stone there and thinking to herself. This was going to be a hell of a lot harder with a civilian around. Frat boys were notoriously stubborn. Real ‘macho-men’. She glanced at the man, debating if she could scare him out of the house as her eyes fell on the smudge of red on his hand.

Trevor was holding his hand in a fist, and she could see a small swell of blood forming there.

“You’re bleeding,” Sypha said shocked, shining her flashlight on the wound and staring for a moment.

Trevor glanced down, lifting his hand to inspect the wound. There was a glint of glass in the cut and Sypha clicked her tongue with worry.

“Don’t touch it.” She commanded, raising a hand at the other as he motioned to pull the glass free. She scrambled over the bookcase, stepping carefully through broken shingles and ripped cloth.

“Give me some light,” she demanded; taking hold of Trevor’s injured hand and lifting it to see. She had pocketed her own flashlight and was using the glow from Trevor’s torch.

The wound didn’t look bad, not too deep, but hands were sensitive and there was no doubt that such a wound could become infected easily. This place wasn’t clean after all.  
Sypha clicked her tongue again, releasing the other’s hand and reaching into her bag to pull out a simple cloth and a vial of water. It was blessed water, but water none the less. She could flush the wound with it for now.  
Without asking she gently tugged the glass free, the small shard falling to the ground and clinking against the bed of glass there. Trevor flinched at the action but didn’t pull away. Sypha glanced up at him, noting how calm and unfazed he was by the pain.

“So that was you making all that noise?” Sypha asked, dumping the vail of water over the wound and watching the pink liquid run onto the floor.

“Yeah, I uh. Broke the window.” Trevor answered back, looking towards the open window. An autumn’s breeze rolled through it and Sypha shivered slightly. “Who are you?” He asked, causing Sypha to pause for a moment.  
Should she answer? There was no harm in giving a name, as long as it wasn’t her true name. All manner of things could be done with one’s true name. Not that she thought this man was a fey.

“Sypha.” She replied, dropping her last name and trying not to think about her middle name. She took the cloth and wrapped it around the other’s hand, making a crude bandage to stop the bleeding. “That’s the best I can do right now.” She admitted, putting her hands on her hips and looking at Trevor’s hand. She could already see the small seeping of blood staining the grey cloth.

“Thanks.” He replied, inspecting the bandage himself before dropping his hand. 

“So, you’re following those stupid traditions for hazing, huh?” She asked, retrieving the flashlight from her pocket and turning it on.

“Yeah…” Trevor answered, looking over his shoulder distracted. “Why are you here, Sypha?” He said her name pointedly as if he was already exasperated by her presence.

Sypha huffed, feeling her temper flare in her chest slightly. She had just helped this guy out and he was already acting like she was tormenting him.

“Investigating.” She admitted, turning sharply on her heel and walking away. She hopped up onto the bookshelf and walked back into the hallway.

“Investigating what?” He asked, following her. He seemed to be keeping his distance and Sypha cursed herself for helping such a fool.

“Nothing concerning some frat boy,” she shot back, walking into the nearest room and over to the desk there. Two large tomes were open on the desk and she began to flip through the pages. Maybe he’d leave her alone if she was rude enough. She really didn’t have the time to play entertainer or nurse. She had to get her work done tonight, or she’d have to wait an entire year for the right star alignments and moon.

“Not a frat boy yet,” he quipped back, leaning against the doorframe and watching her from there. She scowled down at her book, feeling his eyes on her. He wasn’t being a creep, and there didn’t seem to be any sexual motivations to his actions. No curiosity either. It was almost as if he was wading through boredom.

Sypha shook her head and tried to concentrate on the book. She traced her fingers over the odd symbol, trying to commit it to memory. She had studied it for some weeks now and hoped all the research she had done had been correct. She owed it to the Seekers of Truth to get this right and all their accumulated knowledge on the Tomb of the Hero was leading up to this. The first in her family to be accepted into college and the most sensitive to the spiritual realm. She was Wiccan and her bloodline was old, but she was still versed in the realm of magic. She was unable to heal, or produce flame, but there was power in knowledge and she had studied charms and incantations, spells of warding and protection. She had some power and she could pull on it when she needed to. That’s why it was up to her to discover the truth about the Tomb of the Hero. And she didn’t have time to deal with a nosy frat boy.

“What’s that?” A gruff voice asked over Sypha’s shoulder, causing her to jump. Trevor was leaning over her shoulder, reading the page she was looking at.

She frowned, snapping the book shut and putting it in her bag. This was no place for some kid. Being this close to him too, she could smell alcohol on his clothes. He didn’t appear drunk, but there was no doubt that he had spilled beer or vodka on his shirt at some point.

“It’s incredibly rude to read over someone’s shoulder,” Sypha said pointedly, narrowing her eyes at the boy.

“Sorry,” Trevor replied, putting his hands up as if to admit being caught. “Why are you reading Romanian Warding sigils?”

Sypha blinked at the man, cocking her head in confusion. How did he know what these were? These books were old and not well known. It had taken her weeks to place the country of origin.  
“What do you know about the Tomb of the Hero?” She asked, taking no chances as she took the other book from the table and stuffed it back in her bag.

“The what?” Trevor asked back, taking a step away from her as if he was frightened. He appeared calm though, completely unbothered by the line of questioning.

“The Tomb of the Hero? These sigils are supposed to be on his tomb. How do you know them?” Sypha could feel her tongue rolling in her mouth with frustration, her accent growing thicker. She tried to fight it but knew that her English slurred when she got emotional or excited. She was both right now.

“I don’t fucking know what the Tomb of the Hero is.” The brunette replied, crossing his arms over his chest as he squinted down at her. “I just recognize those sigils. They’re—it doesn’t matter.”

He looked like a child standing like that. His arms crossed defensively as he turned his head as if he was pouting. Sypha could tell she had struck some kind of nerve, and this was the biggest emotional reaction she had gotten from him yet. He was hiding something… and it was intriguing.

“Oh?” Sypha asked sweetly, clasping her hands behind her back as she approached the man. “And why does some ‘a curious frat boy’ know ancient religious sigils? Is he really as innocent as he says?”  
He frowned at the words and looked back to Sypha, seemingly distressed by this line of question. He was confused, which seemed to be a constant state of mind for this one.

“You really are stupid, aren’t you?” Sypha asked, her expression falling from one of wicked enjoyment to benign annoyance.

“I’m not stupid,” Trevor replied, scowling down at the woman again. “My parents studied things like that. I recognize it as a Romanian Warding sigil. It’s supposed to be a seal of some kind. That’s all I know.”  
Sypha blinked at the man, processing his words as they slowly began to click in her head. Of course. He had told her from the beginning, why hadn’t she heard it?

“You’re a Belmont!” She said excitedly, “oh—I didn’t think you were actually a Belmont. Your parents are famous for their Bestiaries and Study of Ancient Folklore.” Sypha felt thrill running through her chest as she clapped her hands together, her mind reeling. This opened up a whole new realm of possibilities. This wasn’t just a civilian, this was a Belmont. The Belmont family, for generations, were experts in their class and were known the world over by Pagans, Wicca, and fans of the supernatural. Their names were almost as well known as Ed and Lorraine Warren.

Sypha looked at the floor, lost in her excitement; she almost missed the way Trevor cringed at her recognition. He looked uncomfortable in the wake of her enjoyment, seeming to shrink into the room from mentioning it. Someone eager for anonymity.

“You can help me,” Sypha said suddenly, changing gears as she reached for the other’s hand. He flinched away as she made contact and Sypha froze. “That was your bad hand.” She said, looking down at it and back up at the other’s face. He looked exhausted already.

“The nights still young,” she encouraged, feeling her heart palpitate. She was close to solving this, and with the help of an expert, she was sure to find the tomb tonight. They only had a few more hours. “Here.” She said, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a smooth stone. It glowed a soft orange in the dark room, the stone warm in her palm.

“A stone of the seekers…” Trevor said quickly, and Sypha’s attention snapped back to his face. He seemed to regret the words right away. He knew his stuff.

“Yes, a stone of the seekers. I’m using it to find the Tomb of the Hero. I’ll show you.” She suggested, reaching for his good hand and pulling Trevor out into the hallway.

The brunette huffed in reply, staggering after her as she dodged bottles and furniture in the hallway.

“It’s the brightest downstairs.” Sypha could feel her excitement growing, the possibility of weeks of work finally being completed. She moved effortlessly to the stairway, her flashlight bobbing lamely on the floor as she held Trevor and the stone eagerly. She had been worried that all of this would be nothing! She would finally have something to show to her family, something to add to their knowledge! She would finally—  
Sypha’s foot fell through the hole in the stairs, her entire body lurching as her leg shot down through the broken wood. She didn’t even have time to scream as a reaction as he felt her entire body fall downwards, the stone glowing in her hand. Oh… oh no.

“Shit, shit, shit,” she heard behind her; her attention caught between the motion of her body and Trevor’s voice.

Suddenly the grip on her hand tightened and she felt her arm yank upwards, stopping her motion. She was stuck; her leg jammed through the stair up to her thigh and her arm wrenched backward keeping her still. She looked behind her at Trevor, his face barely illuminated by the soft glow of the stone in her hand, concern evident in his expression. He was holding her upright: hand gripping her own as his wounded hand held on tentatively to her arm.

“Can you balance your weight out with your other leg?” He asked, his voice tight as he obviously put some effort into holding Sypha up.

She stared at him for a moment, brain still celebrating as she started to feel the dull pain in her leg.

“Yeah… don’t drop me.” She said quietly, moving cautiously to brace her free hand against the wall of the stairwell. She moved in inches, hoping the stairs would hold their collective weight.

Sypha pressed her knuckles against the wall, trying to hold on tight to the stone as she brought up her free leg. In the fall she had brought down her other leg and she was kneeling on the step below. She balanced precariously, shuffling her stance to support her weight on the step below.

“I think…” she muttered quietly, pulled awkwardly now between three steps. Her arm was being supported by Trevor, and she was braced against the middle step where her leg had fallen through, as her other leg took the brunt of her weight on the step below. The whole motion like some sort of awkward lunge.

“I’m going to step backward,” Sypha said, feeling her palms sweating. Or maybe that was Trevor’s palms? “Step back up too… I’m going to try and step backward.” She instructed.  
Trevor seemed to resist the idea for a second before he took a step backward. The stairs creaking under him. As long as the stairs held, they’d be okay.

Sypha breathed deeply a few times, before shifting her weight, bracing against the wall and Trevor as he hoped backward. Her leg fell into the hole deeper with the motion, causing her to stumble. Her hand sliding along the wall to try and steady herself as she tried to push herself backward. She could feel the stone slipping out of her grip, the sweat and the strain making it slide through her fist.

“No!” Sypha yelled, the stone popping out of her hand with the effort. The glow ricocheting off the wall and tumbling down the stairs.

“No!” Sypha yelled again, her balance teetering as she tried to desperately reach for the small stone. The poor thing already out of sight. It bounced on a few steps before finding the perfect sized hole and disappearing into the darkness below.

“Sypha! Be careful!” Trevor grunted as Sypha felt her arm being yanked backward. His weight causing her leg to jam painfully against the back of the hole she was stuck in. She hissed, hand sliding fulling down the length of the wall as she felt the wood begin to bend under the weight of her free leg.

The wood groaned under their collective weight as Sypha heard a series of cracks before she was falling. Falling into darkness, her hand still held tightly by Trevor as she felt her weight fall away into nothing. The last thing she saw was Trevor’s expression of fear as they plummeted together into the blackness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter two for your reading pleasure! Please consider joining my patreon at the $1 tier (lowest tier) to get exclusive excerpts on my writing. Including excerpts from chapters from Gresit College.   
> Go to patreon and lookup Dungon Deviant "Ree". Thank-you for your support either way! A comment and a kudo go a long way too.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed the first glimpse at a modern-day AU for Castlevania. I'm excited to make an ongoing, slow-burn series for Trevor, Alucard, and Sypha. This will be an OT3 series. Chapters will switch back and forth between different character's perspectives, most likely between the main three.  
> This series is also available on my patreon so please consider supporting me there. I cannot link directly but please look up Dungeon Deviant "Ree" to support me.  
> I have other Castlevania fics there and create NSFW content also. This chapter here is not NSFW but I will definitely be creating NSFW content as chapters continue.


End file.
